The Clay List
by lostinanotherworld24
Summary: It was just supposed to be a stupid joke, but it worked better than they could have imagined; sometimes the boys need alternative methods of keeping Clay in line.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: this fic is dedicated to burnmedown, because it was a conversation with her that inspired this. please go check out her stories, and show them some love- they are absolutely fantastic and I highly recommend.

thanks for reading; don't forget to drop a review and let me know what you thought!

In all honesty, the list was just supposed to be a stupid joke. Sonny overheard Jason giving Clay a stern lecture about how _no, you're not allowed to half-assedly stitch yourself up after a mission, that's what we have Trent for._ He snickered, and suggested that they start a list of rules specially for Clay, since the kid was a dumbass sometimes. It had drawn a few laughs from the other guys, and one glare from Clay, enough to encourage him to make it a reality.

The next work day, Clay came in to see a white sheet of paper pinned to his cage, boldly titled _**THE "CLAY LIST" AKA SHIT THE KID AIN'T ALLOWED TO DO. **_The first item on the list was about not stitching himself up, but allowing an actual medical professional to take care of it. He groaned and rolled his eyes, much to the amusement of the other guys.

"Yeah, you're _hilarious _Sonny," he assured the other man, and reached up to rip the paper off. Jason eyed this exchange, and fought back a smile before he too incurred Clay's wrath. The longer he considered it though, the more of a good idea it seemed. Hmm, so Sonny _could_ have good ideas outside of the field, who knew.

"No, Clay. Leave it," Jason ordered. Clay whirled around to face him with accusatory eyes.

"You're not going to buy into this bullshit, are you?"

"You could use a leash, kid," Jason shrugged. Laughter erupted from all the guys as Clay flounced into his cage, muttering curses all the way. He was a grown man, nearly 30 years old, and a fucking Navy SEAL to boot. There were many things he needed, and a leash was not one of them. Unfortunately, what Jason said, went, and the best he could hope for was that the amusement would run out of this stupid idea before long.

Xxxx

A week later, the list had a new addition, inscribed by none other than Ray himself. They'd been on a mission in Mongolia of all places, retrieving Americans captured on vacation. Clay had predictably pulled a stupid stunt in that he'd single-handedly decided to allow the enemy to capture him, in order that the team might get to exfil safely. After being rescued, Jason had blistered Clay's ears pretty good for that, but Ray decided to take it a step further. Clay had simply rolled his eyes when he saw _no allowing yourself to be captured as a decoy_ a few days later.

Xxx

Trent of all people furthered the list three weeks after the previous incident. Clay was currently in hospital, having landed there after ignoring a bad case of the flu long enough for it to turn to pneumonia. Not only had he not mentioned having the flu but he'd gone out of his way to actively hide it, including using makeup left by Stella to cover up his bruised under-eye. The team discovered the truth when Clay passed out in his cage, overtaken by malnutrition and dehydration.

He loved Clay like a brother, but hell if he didn't want to murder the kid sometimes. Spenser couldn't ever go with the flow, nope that was too easy for him. In his determined goal to be better than his father, he decided to be the biggest pain in the ass Bravo had ever seen. Mission accomplished, as Trent regularly had the urge to drink himself to oblivion now.

Alone in the cages, Trent forced himself to breathe deeply to avoid breaking something out of pure anger and frustration. It wasn't working, an itch dancing through his fingers to smash something to smithereens. In a quest for something that would give him satisfaction of breaking it without drawing attention, his eyes alighted on a sheet of white paper lying innocently against black bars. With a smirk, he dug out a pen and walked over, his rage bleeding out with every word.

_no hiding illness or injury _

_no using makeup to cover said illness or injury _

Xxxx

"Y'know Jace, I've been thinking," Ray began. They were on the plane after a successful mission, and everyone was feeling a little loose.

"That's dangerous," Jason joked.

"We have the list of rules for Clay, but what we gonna do to enforce them?"

Jason let this thought roll around in his brain, considered possible solutions.

"He's our kid, why not ground him?"

"Cause he's a Navy SEAL? And almost 30 years old?"

"He belongs to us. Until the day that he runs for another team- which is the day hell freezes over, far as I'm concerned- he's ours to do with as we wish."

"How is the grounding thing gonna work?" Ray wondered, sipping from his beer.

"We take his car keys, pick him up and drop him off as far as work goes. Or he stays with one of us."

"He ain't gonna like it," Ray advised, after a beat of thoughtful consideration.

"He don't have to, but he does have to learn there will be consequences to not following rules."

Xxxx

"And then you shoulda seen the look on Trent's face!" Ray cackled, tipping his head back. The guys all laughed even though the story was confusing and the punchline poorly delivered, but they were too smashed to even notice. Sonny chuckled along with the rest, and shoved himself to his feet with a beer in hand, stumbling slightly over to the bar to order another round. Clay stood leaning against the bar, texting furiously. Huh, Sonny hadn't even noticed him get up.

He observed Clay for a moment, saw the red flush of his cheeks and the slight grin that upturned his lips.

"Who's got you grinning like a possum eating a sweet potato?" Sonny taunted, sipping from his drink. Clay glanced up at him and shook his head.

"Ah, no one."

"The redness in your cheeks says otherwise. C'mon, blondie. Spill."

"Really, it's no one."

A memory struggled against the haze of alcohol, something he should remember. With a mighty heave, it broke through and Sonny recalled the last time he'd seen Clay like this. When he first started dating Ste-oh no. Oh. Hell. No.

"Tell me right now who you're texting," Sonny ordered, straightening his spine.

"Sonny, it's none of your business who I'm-"

"Is it _her?" _

Clay didn't outright confirm it, but the way his eyes went shifty and he refused to meet Sonny's gaze told the whole story.

"Clay. No. She's bad news, brother. I'm telling you."

"Sonny, it's not like we're rushing to get married. We're just seeing where this goes."

"No, you're not 'seeing where it goes.' You know why? Cause it's me who's gonna get a call at 3am to come pick your ass up from the local bar. No. Let her go."

Clay's fingers darted over his phone screen, before he locked and tucked it away.

"It's not on the list, and you can't stop me," Clay sassed, taking out his wallet. Sonny turned away, and went back to the guys' table. From his vantage point, Clay couldn't see exactly what Sonny was up to, but didn't give it much thought, more concerned with the tail he had waiting. He had to give her that much, she'd always known how to love him right.

Sonny hurried back, and slapped a napkin on the bar in front of Clay.

_**THE CLAY LIST- MOBILE VERSION**_

_no drunkenly sleeping with stella _

_in fact, no sleeping or interacting with stella at all _

Clay shook his head, rolled his eyes, and shoved away the napkin.

"Sonny, I was raised better than to leave a lady waiting. Sorry brother, gotta go."

Jason appeared then, and wrestled Clay into a headlock, leaving him pretty well pinned. Sonny patted Clay down quick, and confiscated his phone and keys. Clay struggled, but couldn't break the older man's hold.

"You'll go home with Sonny tonight, and then he can drive you back to your car in the morning," Jason informed him, releasing him from the headlock.

Clay groaned, and sent Jason a nasty glare. He wished intensely for a time machine, in order to find a time when he didn't have five mother hens watching his every move. That was the nice thing about Green Team, in that no one really gave a fuck what he did off-duty, as long as he didn't end up dead, injured, or in jail. He'd assumed things might be the same way with Bravo, but no he got stuck with the ridiculously overprotective team. _Just his luck_.

Xxxx

A groan wanted to slip from his lips as he stumbled into the cages, but he mostly managed to repress it. Once he really got moving, he'd feel better, he assured himself. This was just leftover stiffness from sleeping. The doctor at the ER had even said that he wasn't that seriously injured, just needed a couple days' rest. Since he had no intention of telling the others about his accident last night, he defined their training days as "rest", considering they weren't going as hard as compared to a mission.

Ray eyed Clay warily from across the room, not missing the uneasy gait of his youngest teammate. It was not out of the realm of possibility for him to be hurting from training yesterday, but something within Ray urged him to investigate further.

"You doing alright Clay?" He inquired, eyes still on the boots he was strapping on.

"Doin' great," Clay replied, working hard to put a note of cheerfulness in his voice.

"Really? Moving kinda stiff," he jerked his chin at the younger man.

"Just slept wrong."

"I'm sure," Ray privately rolled his eyes. Heaven forbid the youngest man ever admit that something was wrong, _noooo_ that was too good for Bravo's youngest.

By then, the boys had started to come in, the sound of their conversations drowning out Ray and Clay's. The older man had hoped to find a moment to share his concerns with Jason, but seeing as Jason was locked in pretty intensely with Sonny, Ray knew it would have to wait. He just hoped that the others would pick up on the same cues he had.

Sure enough, it didn't take long for the others to suss out a problem with Clay, and for them to start giving him their own searching looks. He noticed, but managed to avoid conversation about it by refusing to meet anyone's gaze. That system worked pretty well until he went to get dressed.

"You ain't gonna change your shirt?" Jason asked him. Clay glanced up, and flashed a bright smile.

"Naw, came dressed in my workout shirt today."

"That's unusual. You never do that, because almost all your workout shirts are here."

"Change in routine once in a while is good for you, you know…," Clay's voice trailed off uncertainly, a note of nervousness heightening his pitch.

"No, I don't know. Take off your shirt Clay," Jason ordered.

"What the hell Jason? I ain't fuckin' taking off my shirt for your _viewing pleasure,_" Clay crossed his arms defiantly.

"Clay. You are moving stiff today, having trouble lifting your arms above your head, and don't think I didn't see you pop six ibuprofen. Answer me honestly. Are you injured right now?"

Clay rolled his head from side-to-side.

"It depends on what your definition of 'injured' is."

Several of the guys let out curses, and Jason pinched his forehead between his fingers, massaging slightly to ease the headache that had suddenly formed there.

"Clay. What is the third rule on the list in your cage?"

"No hiding illness or injury," Clay recited dutifully.

"Mmhm. And what do you call not telling us when you're injured?"

"I didn't hide it, exactly. I went to the hospital last night and they said I was fine," Clay informed him.

"Okay, _what happened_ last night?"

Clay groaned internally, cause he knew telling them what had happened would get him grounded for a year. He resigned himself to the loss of freedom and explained the whole story: he went out for a few drinks, was walking back to his car when a distracted driver kinda clipped him. At the hospital, they'd diagnosed him with a couple of cracked ribs and a concussion, and told him to take it easy for a couple days. He'd assured them he would, took his prescription for painkillers, and went home.

By the time he was finished, Trent's face had gone several shades of purple, while Jason look pissed enough to kill him where he stood. Ray just appeared distinctly, deeply unimpressed, and Sonny was rolling his eyes at his teammate's stupidity. Brock simply shook his head, not surprised by this latest stunt.

At the end of it, Jason deemed him grounded for an indeterminate amount of time, and got him set up in a conference room doing paperwork, knowing there was little that Clay hated more than paperwork. Clay also had to write an essay on the dangers of hiding concussions, and not treating injuries properly. Lastly, although it wasn't planned, the guys had all slapped Clay across the back of the head for his stunt, ignoring protestations about his concussion.

Clay was a little shocked when two weeks later, no new rule had been added to the list. When asked, Jason simply smiled and handed Clay a pen, saying he'd be the one to inscribe the new addition, to make sure this one stuck.

He'd never admit it, but these sort of things kinda warmed his heart a little, because he knew it was their way of showing that they cared.

Still didn't mean he agreed with the fucking list.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I wasn't initially planning to write a second chapter, but managed to be persuaded otherwise. Y'all have burnmedown to thank for this, and especially to thank for the third rule! Go show some love on her amazing stories, it would be much appreciated.

Thank you for reading, and don't forget to drop a review and let me know what you thought! Merry Christmas!

Jason whistled a few notes of George Strait and swung around the corner, glancing briefly through the large glass windows of the range. Sonny had said that'd be the most likely spot to find Clay, as he'd been unhappy with some of his groupings with at their last requal. They needed to have a team meeting about keeping the cages clean, since some cake-eaters had taken an unexpected tour and had fits upon seeing the disarray that passed for livable within Bravo. Jason's eyes landed on the kid in one of the very last stalls, and what he saw made him feel a familiar urge to both kick the kid's ass until he begged for mercy, and simultaneously down an entire bottle of whiskey.

Clay stood as he'd been taught, with feet shoulder-length apart, arms out and straight, and both hands on the gun, without his thumbs overlapping. What he lacked in this moment was a pair of earmuffs, or the things that kept them from _losing their fucking hearing_. Just looking at him made Jason see red.

Wasting no time, he entered the range, barking out Clay's name in a tone the younger man was very familiar with. He emptied his clip and then set down the gun, spinning around to face his team leader.

"What's up Jace?"

"Where. The. Fuck. Is. Your. Ear. Protection."

The younger man shrugged insolently. Jason forced himself to take calming breaths.

"I knew I wasn't gonna be long, so figured it was okay to skip it."

"Ear protection is not something you skip, Spenser. You need your hearing intact to make sure you hear every word of our briefings, every command I give in the field. _Especially_ because you're our resident translator, hearing is vital. You are grounded for a month, and are not allowed to visit the range alone for that entire month. We clear?"

A muscle jumped in Clay's jaw. He wanted to argue so bad but simply nodded, having long since learned a lesson about arguing his punishments. That tended to make Jason madder, and caused his groundings to get extended.

"C'mon let's go. We got shit to talk about, and we're gonna have a team meeting to discuss it. First and foremost, you're gonna explain to the other guys what you did, and then they'll explain you exactly what was wrong with that scenario. Then we got housekeeping shit," Jason prodded his kid out of the room.

That same day _safety equipment is always a necessity, and never an option_ became the newest addition to the list.

XXXX

Sonny tilted his head back to glance at Clay as he entered the living room after grabbing some food from the kitchen. They had been without missions for a little while, and training could only take up so much of their time. Both men were bored out of their skulls.

"Wish it wasn't so freezing outside, we could go hit baseballs or something," Clay remarked, crunching down on a chip. Sonny glanced out the window at the snow-covered world and shivered. Texans did not like the snow, that much was certain.

Sonny's mind wandered a little then, ruminating on the cold, when a thought came to him. It was an awful idea, but he couldn't resist.

"I got an idea of how we could pass the time. Have a lil' competition, go down to the lake or some shit, see who can stay in longest."

Clay considered this, laughed.

"Yeah I'll do that if I want to get grounded for the rest of my life."

"Aw c'mon, Jason n'Ray don't ever gotta find out."

Sonny saw his friend was on the edge of accepting, but still needed a slight push over the edge.

"Bet you $50 you can't make it past five minutes."

xxxx

The lake below the pier was a cool grey-blue, swells of waves rising up to crash against the rickety pier they stood on. Clay shivered and glanced at Sonny, who had a glint of apprehension in his eye. He was just about to suggest they go back when his friend rushed forward and dove in. Clay shrugged and followed suit.

The water was as freezing as he expected, numbing every inch of his body. Sonny bobbed in the water next to him, teeth chattering slightly. He tilted his head so he was staring at the thickly clouded sky, and tried to think about anything other than his predicament. Maybe what he would do with the extra money, once he won.

Finally after what seemed like hours, Sonny spat out that he couldn't take it anymore and swam to the pier, climbing up slowly. Clay grinned to himself and began to swim back too, fighting off dizziness, only to be hit with a sudden wave of total exhaustion. His eyes slid shut, his head drooped forward, and he fell down a long black hole, heedless of the yelling of his friend.

xxxx

Jason had never been so livid in his life. Sonny and Clay were equally prone to doing dumb shit, but had never done something so idiotic that they almost died. Sonny was pushing 35, and Clay 30, yet they still both had the common sense of _goldfish_ sometimes.

The doctor came out while Jason was lost in thought. Jason's head snapped towards him, internally praying that Bravo Three and Six would be alright. They were senseless dumbasses yes, but they were _his _senseless dumbasses and he needed them to be okay.

"They're just fine," the doctor announced, earning sighs of relief from the team. "They must have a guardian angel on their shoulders, because they miraculously managed to avoid serious harm, and with rest and continued warmth should make a full recovery. Clay will be a little on the groggy side for a while, but that will be resolved soon enough."

Jason exhaled a sigh of relief, and let gratitude overwhelm him for a second, before it was steamrolled by the lividity he felt previously. By the expressions of his friends, they felt much the same way. The call that Sonny and Clay were in hospital for hypothermia had scared everyone to death, visions of amputated toes and fingers dancing in their heads. To learn it was self-inflicted made them ballistic.

Sonny at least had the grace to look seriously abashed as they came in the room, while Clay lay in the bed next to him, dead to the world. Jason stood at the end of his bed with his arms folded, the expression on his face conveying just how angry he was. The younger man fidgeted with his blankets and avoided meeting anyone's eyes.

The anger soon turned to fury when Clay, upon waking up, immediately demanded Sonny pay up the $50.

xxxx

"What did you was so beyond any notion of common sense, I'm not sure there's words for it," Jason began. A week had passed, and Clay and Sonny were both back on base. "You both could have died from your stunt, if Sonny had waited any longer to climb out of the water. I have half a mind to whip you both bloody, but your senior chief has assured me that's considered. assault. Therefore your punishments are as follows: you are both grounded for three months. Sonny, you will devote every minute of free time for a month to weapons cleaning and maintenance, since this little bet came about as a result of being _bored. _Clay, since the essay worked so well last time, you will write an extremely detailed report on the dangers of hypothermia, with pictures included. Yes, you will have to look at pictures of what happens when people become severely hypothermic. Suck it up."

Sonny's head whipped up at the 'grounded' part. He wasn't the kid, he didn't get grounded.

"Jace, I ain't the kid. I don't get grounded."

"Have the common sense of a child, get treated like one," Jason snapped back. Sonny's head dipped back down, and he studiously observed the floor beneath his feet. Time had given him perspective, and he was beginning to realize just how dangerous what they had done was. Guilt hadn't left him since Jason had lectured him till his ears blistered in the hospital room.

It was Sonny himself who ultimately added _no swimming in freezing lakes for money _

XXXX

There was no part of Clay that was devoid of pain. Every square inch of his body ached, and he wanted to lie down and sleep for a million years. Unfortunately, his doctors had said he should try staying awake as much as possible during the day, to help with the insomnia he'd experienced since the attack.

The attack had happened on base while on deployment, a local military attempting to neutralize who they'd considered to be invaders. The first wave had hit the Bravo Team barracks, forces steamrolling over where Clay slept, causing serious injuries. Ever since then he hadn't quite managed to convince himself that it was safe to sleep.

Currently, it was his third day of being awake, and he just wanted to die.

_Fuck the doctors, _he blearily thought. A haze settled over his mind, and he just wanted to _rest. _Clumsily, he reached over to his bottle of pain pills and poured some into his hand, slamming them back. Those he chased with a swig from a bottle of whiskey he'd procured. Another swig washed them fully down, and he let his head hit the pillow, swept away by the cool tide of sleep minutes later.

xxxx

A steady beeping, and a hand on his shoulder brought him to awareness, eyes blearily sliding open. For a moment the world was blurry, before his vision sharpened to reveal the entire team gathered around his bed. Jason was touching him, but the older man stepped back when he saw those familiar ocean eyes.

"What are y'all-," Clay paused for a moment, smacked his lips. "What are y'all doing in my apartment? Everything okay?"

"Kiddo, you're in the hospital," Jason softly informed him.

"Why? I just got out."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Took some pain pills and went to sleep."

An outsider couldn't know they were giving each other nervous glances, but Clay could read them like books. The shifting of their eyes, the slight shuffling of feet told him there was something more going on.

"What happened?"

"We found you in your apartment dead to the world. We couldn't wake you, thought something was seriously wrong. An ambulance came and got you, and you've been here for 15 hours," Ray revealed.

Clay's mind shorted out. He lost more than half a day?

"They found pain pills mixed with whiskey in your tox screen. What were you _thinking_?"

Jason's voice was still soft, but he couldn't hide the accusatory tone in his words. Clay sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Honestly, you guys...I just wanted to sleep. Ever since what happened...every time I try to, I just have panic attacks."

"We'll deal with the pills and alcohol later, but do not think this conversation is over.."

Clay wanted to groan in dread at the thought of further conversation over his mishap. If he was _lucky_, he'd walk away with being grounded for two weeks.

xxxx

A short while later, Clay was released from the hospital straight into Jason's custody. Due to extenuating circumstances, the team voted to have him stay with Jason for a week, but wouldn't consider it an official grounding. It was really just to keep an eye on the kid, make sure he was okay. Although they all took the time to sit down with him and explain just how incredibly stupid what'd he done had been.

Upon his return to the cages, _no mixing meds with alcohol _became an official rule. He cringed a little each time he saw it, but endured it in good humour.

Although he still enjoyed vivid fantasies of burning the stupid list.


End file.
